Revoltingly Libidinous
by Stratusfied247
Summary: Another morning after and Randy refuses to believe that he's not the man of Trish's dreams, no matter what she says. TrishRandy


"I hate mornings."

"I know ya do."

"Almost as much as I hate you."

"Uh huh. That's why you keep coming back for more."

She would have rolled over and gone back to sleep for a few minutes if he hadn't decided to be a complete and utter retard and say something that he knew would only force her to roll over. So, instead of burying herself back beneath the covers, Trish Stratus turned to the side, lifted her hand, balled her fingers tightly and brought her fist down on his stomach. Randy jerked upwards and his body started to curl around itself. Trish smirked.

"That serves you right." She fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She really did hate Randy Orton. With every fiber in her being, she despised his smirk, his attitude, and most of the time, even his voice. His random stares made her skin crawl and sometimes she wanted to snatch every little hair out of his head. And yet, every few weeks, she still ended up bed with him.

Despite the hatred, there was something about him that drew her near. She thought that maybe he was just par for the course with the men she usually found herself sexually involved with. They all had egos too big to fit in the largest of arenas. They figured they could do whatever they wanted to do, and that was because, usually, they could. Randy was just another in a long line of men who grated on her nerves, yet at the same time, gave new meaning to the idea of the multiple orgasm.

Sighing, Trish pulled herself up and swung her legs off of the bed. There had been a small amount of time where she thought that Randy might not have been so bad. Of course, that was the time that he had appeared to grow up and was in the process of winning over Stacy Keibler. Being the megalomaniac that he was, though, Randy ruined that with an RKO. And Trish was back in the rectangle of his bed that same night.

"You like me more than you wanna admit," Randy said as he sat up. He leaned forward with a grunt and looked at Trish. His eyes burned into her back and she shuddered. Randy reached out to touch her and she shuddered again. "You always give me this crock of shit the next morning, but you sure don't act like you hate me at night."

"Sex is sex, Orton." She rolled her eyes, and it was a waste of motion since he couldn't see it. If she cared to look at him, meaning that she cared to have the urge to vomit, then she'd have turned to him and rolled her eyes again. Instead, she stood up from the bed. The first time she slept with Randy, she'd woken up naked and disgusted. Since then, though, she had begun to throw on a pair of panties and a tank top. Now, she only woke up disgusted. "You happen to be good in the sack, and sometimes, a girl just needs a good lay."

"You're so full of shit."

Trish turned around and glared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" She crossed her arms over her stomach and jutted her chin out at him. "Ya know what? That's one reason I hate you. Because you think you know everything. You're just disgusting, you know that?"

"What's that old line about protesting too much?" Randy smirked and moved across the bed. He settled in on the side that Trish ahd just vacated and fell back with his hands behind his head. He looked at her and she wanted to slap him. She would have slapped him if she didn't think that he would do something stupid like grab her and pull her down. Then, she'd just be in the same place she was in last night, and that wouldn't do anything for her getting out of that room and away from him.

"You try too hard to hate me, Trish," he went on. "You'll tell anybody who asks how much you hate me and that I need to grow up and all this other shit that makes you feel better, but the truth is you don't hate me because you're just like me."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't act like you didn't know all along. You're just like me and every other asshole just like me that you've even remotely dated. You're the female version of that and you know what that's called?" He rolled onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow. "It's called bitch, and there's nothing sexier than attitude."

"It's not your attitude that's sexy, Randy. It's the fact that you're one of very few men left in this company that has the decency to still visit a gym. It's the fact that you obviously know your own body well enough that you're not fascinated by it like some I could name, and that I attribute to you being so repulsive to most women with half a brain in their heads that you've got no choice but to entertain yourself most nights."

Randy's laugh was mocking and conceited. "I never have to entertain myself unless I want to."

"Uh huh." She rolled her eyes. "You're a sick human being, you know that, Orton? You RKO'd your own girlfriend, for crying out loud. After kissing her, might I add."

"Yeah, and I felt bad about it, but hey… a guy's gotta do and all that. Stacy'll either understand, or she won't." He shrugged. "Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the exact same thing."

Trish opened her mouth to speak but closed it when she realized that she didn't have an immediate retort. Truthfully, she couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty that, if she actually had someone with her, she wouldn't feed him to the cause. Of course, in her position, it would have been more of a turnabout is fair play deal because she'd been the sacrificial lamb on more than one occasion. It was one of the main reasons that she didn't stay with any partner for any serious length of time, anymore. She had enough to worry about that she didn't need to add someone using her as a shield to the list.

Trish growled and let her arms drop to her sides. "I'm not playing this game, Orton. You disgust me. Your very presence makes me feel dirty, which is why I'm going to take a shower, ALONE, and then get the hell out of this room."

"You'll be back, though," he said as she turned and walked towards the bathroom.

She stopped and turned back. She opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. Trish stomped across the room and grabbed the handle of her bag. It was still in the same spot she'd dropped it when she and Randy burst into the room. At that time, she had ignored the fact that she hated his guts and was just glad that they actually made it into the room before clothes came off.

With the wheels of her suitcase squeaking behind her, she stomped back across the room. She grabbed the doorknob, then turned. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"That's why you hate me so damn good," he said with a wink.

Trish growled, stomped, then groaned. "Just shut up, alright? Outside of the bedroom, everything about you disgusts me, and honestly, in this room, you still disgust me. Apparently, it's only when sex is involved that I don't completely hate you. You're vile, revolting, disgusting and… You're damn right I'll be back, because you've got one good quality and I'm gonna use it until it doesn't work anymore."

Trish shoved the bathroom door open and slammed it hard behind her. She couldn't hear any noise from the other room, but she would bet her Wrestlemania paycheck that he was grinning like a goddamned fool. So full of himself. So sure that he knew everything. Well, he knew what mattered and the rest he was so far off on it was almost funny. Trish really did hate every single thing about his personality that was there to hate. She just happened to have a libido that he satisfied quite well.

"Horny bitch," she muttered as she adjusted the water in the shower and stripped down. "Damn right, I'm a horny bitch. And I'd be prouder of it if there were anybody other than Randy Orton that could satisfy me."


End file.
